Filling the Gaps
by EdieNico
Summary: Alana Bloom survives the carnage and lives to see Hannibal incarcerated. She reflects on their past as he tries to help find the Red Dragon. Chapters jump between present and past. ****for those who want to skip to the fun stuff, chapter 7 and beyond :)
1. Scent

The cage was out in the middle of the floor, as customary. Walking in lock-step with the orderly as he gave instructions almost had a rhythm to it. Do not touch the cage. Step Do not approach the cage. Step. You'll pass him nothing but soft paper...

Clang.

The door closing behind her made her jolt momentarily. "I'm surprised, Dr. Bloom. You seem jumpy for how well you know him," said Chilton. He had never forgiven her for doubting his innocence. In all fairness, she never felt the need to apologize. Her being alive and so publicly wrong was penance enough.

"I'm fine from here, Dr. Chilton." Alana motioned to the orderly to continue. He was a large man, though less rigid in his disposition than many of the others.

"I'll keep an eye on you," he said flatly. Something told Alana that he knew, though she figured that he could read. Thanks to Freddie Lounds, her infamy spread well beyond the academic fishbowl.

Hannibal's cell neighbor,Matthew Brown, spoke in monosyllables to his lawyer as she walked by. Even in visitation they were neighbors. The former orderly was either heavily medicated or simply cracked following his attempt on Hannibal's life. Must have been Chilton's idea to put them together.

Hannibal never broke eye contact with her as she walked to the chair.

He looked her up and down. "The Tatler's pictures do you no justice, remarkable recovery."

"Still have access to Freddie Lounds? Even in here?"

"I paid my lawyers good money to fight for Internet access," he said flatly. "Besides, Frederick took my books."

"You took his freedom."

"Only briefly," Hannibal smiled. "You look well, Alana."

There was very little left to remind her of the man he was. Professor. Friend. Lover. Physically he hadn't changed much. He seemed very strong, still very intense. His voice drew her in as always. Yet there was something colder in his appearance. It was slight, but noticeable. It was as if something was coming to the surface of his skin. An almost physical warning of who he was that wasn't there before.

"Why did you ask me here?"

"The Tooth Fairy. As I understand it, the FBI has deigned to have you return as a consulting psychologist. Knowing how quickly you and Mr. Graham work, I sense this one is getting away from you. And I happen to have nothing to read between my time on the internet."

"Is that the only reason you asked me here, Dr. Lecter?"

"So formal, Alana. Might as well call me Professor, for old time's sake."

"My familiarity with you ended when I knew what you are. Not to mention the window."

"And what am I, Dr. Bloom? Frederick calls me a sociopath and on occasion a psychopath. Other PhD candidates come by and give a garden variety of personality disorders. I'm so keen to hear your opinion, pupil mine."

"I'm not going to pretend to know what you are psychologically. You forget that I'm not that reckless. And I know you too well to try and box you in."

He looked at her thoughtfully and smiled. "My faith is restored, in the profession. Thank you, Dr. Bloom. Though I know I should never underestimate you. I'm happy to see that part of you hasn't changed."

Alana rose from the chair and walked until she was a foot away from the cage.

"What I do know is that you are not the man I thought you were. And I'm unsure any part of you is actually human."

"And that is where you arereckless, Alana. You want to be unsure about my humanity. What scares you is that I am human. More human than most."

"And yet your contempt for humanity is palpable."

"Life is precious. My contempt extends to those who waste it. You received a second chance and haven't wasted a moment. The world remains a more interesting place with you in it."

A small part of her tugged at this. The look she received from him noted that it made an impact.

Alana reached for her bag and brought out an abbreviated case file on the Tooth Fairy. She flipped though it to make sure there was only soft paper. "I cleared this with Dr. Chilton already. Contact your attorney if he takes it away. You have 24 hours."

"I'll only need 6."

"Of course you do," she said as she leaned forward and handed it to him.

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "You haven't changed your perfume."

"Goodbye, Dr. Lecter." Alana turned and started walking away

"See you soon, Alana."

Alana's phone buzzed with a text message from Will, asking for details on the meeting. She stopped to reply: "He offered his assistance on the Tooth Fairy. I gave him the abbreviated file. And he smelled me. Otherwise, noth..." Alana felt warm liquid stream down her leg.

Chilton stood at the cell door and smiled. "I told you along time ago, stay behind the line," he said. Matthew Brown smiled as he continue to urinate in her direction. Chilton motioned the orderly, "Clean that up and get both of them back to their cells."

"Good visit? Do tell," Chilton with a smirk.

"Nothing enlightening. He could be a psychopath. Or a sociopath. Some people may conflate the two outdated terms."

She didn't wait to hear or see Chilton's reaction.


	2. Invitations

7 years earlier-Georgetown

"Ms. Bloom?"

"Yes?"

"Jack Crawford, we spoke over the phone?"

"Oh yes. Please, sit down."

Jack Crawford was a taller, more imposing man than she envisioned. He dwarfed her office and seemed outsized for the chair he took. The first call from him jarred her. She had applied for a fellowship to teach at the FBI academy years earlier and never heard back. Not even a letter. Then, only five days ago, she received a phone call.

"I'm sure you are curious why I contacted you."

"A tad," Alana said, her interest piqued. "The last time I contacted the FBI was when I began my masters. Needless to say, I didn't expect to hear when I was finishing up my Ph.d."

"The government can move slowly, that's not an exaggeration," Jack laughed. "I had you application filed away, and a colleague of yours referenced your article on hypnosis used for memory retrieval. I liked it, he was critical."

"Hannibal?"

"Who? No, it was Dr. Chilton. I drop by his hospital from time to time. I tend to provide him with patients."

"Ah yes," Alana smiled. "I've had extended conversations with Dr. Chilton before. He and I are courteous." Alana shifted her gaze to the book marked copy of Chilton's book that Hannibal gave her. "Ridiculous"; "No."; and even a "WTF" were among Hannibal's many comments.

"'Courteous' is a good word to describe my read on the relationship between you two. I tend to be "courteous" with Dr. Chilton myself," Jack paused and laughed at something she could only guess. "Anyway, I read more of your work and thought I could ask for your help on a case I'm working on. This would just be an informal consult and would only take as much time as you are willing to spare."

"What's the case?"

"The Chesapeake Ripper. Have you heard of him?"

"Extensively. Brutal murders. I do not know any of the details beyond hearing of their theatricality, but yes...I've heard of him." Alana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. At one point she ventured on to a website that contained some of the crime scene photos and wished she had not. The thoroughness and skill of the killer disturbed her, never mind what was actually done.

"Much has been done in the way of a profile, just based on what he has done. But nothing on a psychological level. I was curious if you could provide any insight," Jack handed her a case file.

"I am honored that you would even consider me. I am in between articles and other duties at school, but I can certainly take a look." Alana thumbed through the pages to get an idea of the file's contents. " I'll look at it long after lunch."

"That's wise. I've made that mistake a few times. Please let me know if you need anything else, I'll do what I can to give the full picture...or as full as I've seen it."

"I appreciate the opportunity, Agent Crawford."

Alana waited a full four hours until she opened the file. Long after lunch, and several hours before dinner. It was lengthy. Several psychologists consulted on it before. All varied, but all included the same conclusion: intelligent psychopath.

The pictures confirmed the same thing. As Alana hung them chronilogically on her office wall, she marveled at the detail. The thoroughness. And the sheer variety of the victims. No two were alike. They were of all races and came from all walks of life. A sales clerk at a cheese market, a nurse at a hospital, a psychology Ph.D candidate. All different. A knock at the door broke her concentration.

"Working late, Alana?" Asked Hannibal. "Am I bothering you?"

"No, not at all. I just don't want you to ruin your appetite looking at these," she said motioning to the pictures. She watched as Hannibal's eyes widened at something that looked similar to awe and recognition.

"You have seen these before?"

"The Chesapeake Ripper. Yes. I confess, I do wander into the darker corners of the internet now and again." He looked up and down at the pictures she hung. "What are you doing with these?"

"An agent from the FBI dropped by. I had applied for a fellowship there years ago. That, and he recently read a few of my articles. He asked me to give an opinion on the Ripper case."

"I'd expect nothing less than this. Your articles have own wide acclaim," he hummed. "I didn't know you applied to teach at the academy."

"That was a while ago. Long before I started studying under you," she smiled.

"I see they want you to jump in the deep waters quickly." Hannibal looked at the pictures up and down, looking closely. "The Chesapeake Ripper's thorough work shows up in every shot." Hannibal glanced at the James Miller, the psychology ph. D candidate. "Very thorough."

"I do think I'm done for the day. I can only have this in front of me for so long," said Alana grabbing her coat.

"Dinner?" Asked Hannibal.

"If you are buying," said Alana.

"Cooking. I'll be cooking," said Hannibal following her out.

til next time :)


	3. Business and Pleasure

"That was unnecessary." Alana stood impatiently before Hannibal's cell as he reclined on his cot, looking at the ceiling.

"No one will miss the late Mr. Brown, Alana. Not me, you, or the poor cleaning staff he used to taunt," Hannibal said as he looked up at her. "Secretly, I'm sure Frederick is happy that his utter hiring failure is now dead. Plus, I had my reasons."

Alana sighed. "Did you finish looking at the case file?"

"He's a shy boy. Would love to meet him."

"Is that all?"

"Oh I could go on. For a price," said Hannibal.

"I alleviated your boredom for over a day. Way I see it, you owe me a debt."

"In the normal world, yes. But this is prison. The rules aren't the same when the person you are bargaining with cannot leave."

"What do you want?"

"Dinner. Here. By the chef of my choice for a month."

"That's it?"

"Your company. Mr. Graham too if he can pull himself away from family life."

"I can't promise that. Similarly, I have _my_ reasons."

"Duly noted. Until you do promise something though, you'll be waiting a long time before you'll discover anything useful."

Alana rolled her eyes and Hannibal went back to the case file. It was then she realized that she had never seen his cell before. Charcoal drawings lined his cell. Florence, Vienna, and Copenhagen on one wall and portraits on the other: Jack, Will, Abigail. She blinked back the memory of the carnage that night. So cold, so much blood. She looked at the drawing currently unfinished on his table. It was her. It was either her sleeping or it was how she looked as he stood over her that night.

The carnage created by the person in front of her was something she couldn't prevent as it happened. As he told her years ago, he worked very hard to blind her to it. Of course she couldn't prevent it. But she wasn't blind to what the Tooth Fairy was doing.

"Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"I'll do it. Dinner once a week by the chef of your choice. I will be here. You have to do one small thing for me in order for this to go forward."

"And what is that?" He asked.

"Never draw me. And destroy that." She said pointing to the picture.

"Done. It's a shame though. You were at peace all those nights."

"Dinner starts Wednesday, Dr. Lecter. They will stop if this is nothing more than a joke to you."

"I never found dinner with you a joke, Alana. Business and pleasure, as always."

She started walking away.

"See you Wednesday."

/fin


	4. Pressure and Heat

Five years earlier

Miriam Lass was a petite woman, but had a sturdiness in her walk. Alana knew who Miriam was before she introduced herself when she went to the Academy that first time. The two got along well. Similar experiences in strange ways...both underestimated at different points. No war stories shared, but there was an understanding that both knew they met the same subtle prejudice before: A combination of often being the only woman in the room and an undercurrent of presumed weakness.

"The line that strikes me is 'intelligent psychopath.' In my opinion, it lends itself to narrowing down what fields this person works in," said Alana.

"Medical field, definitely" said Miriam. "Maybe psychology?"

"It's possible. But the amount of skill involved in these murders indicates medical most of all. There is a richness to it. A level of care that surpasses just hacking at these people with a machete or scalpel alike." Alana glanced at the crime scene pictures of James Miller, the ph.d candidate in psychology. The careful, precise exposure of his ribs and coupled with the removal of the heart and lungs didn't send a chill down her spine. The pre-mortem removal of his eyes did. "It's as if he is keeping his skills sharp."

"Why would that be? Why would he need to keep his skills sharp if he is in the medical field?" Asked Miriam.

"Because he may not be in the medical field. He could be retired or unable to practice." Alana glanced at the clock.

"Unfortunately I have to leave. I need to finish up assisting with this class. Talk later?"

"Sure," chirped Miriam. "I think we made some progress. I have to ask a Jack a few procedural questions about pursing this angle, but I think you might be on to something. Would you be open to follow up in this if necessary?"

"Certainly! Anything to help," said Alana.

"Great, I'll be in touch."

Alana left the Academy beaming. The more she thought over the facts of the file in her head, the more she became confident that she could narrow down the endless categories of who the Chesapeake Ripper could be. A real profile.

She returned to her office to grade papers. "Undergrads," she muttered as she saw yet another paper on Pavlov.

"They seem to get younger every year," said Hannibal.

Alana laughed. "That implies I'm so much older," she said. "You can come in, the doorjamb is not comfortable."

She realized how late it was. It was dark out, and she noted that Hannibal had his necktie off. He moved some papers to sit down in the armchair.

"Catching up?"

"I was at the Academy today. The Ripper. Some progress, finally."

"New theory?"

"Medical...maybe ex-medical."

Hannibal brightened. "Interesting. What brought you to that conclusion?"

"The care in the incisions. No novice can do that."

"You seem to enjoy this," said Hannibal. He smiled.

"I do. And you seem amused."

"Not at all, I'm proud of you. It's great to watch someone find their passion. What they are talented at."

"Profiling serial killers?"

"Seeing beyond who they are as killers. Where are how are easy questions. Killers get caught when you find their location or narrow them down through their methods. You see who they are."

Alana laughed. "Flattering, but I'm not that good. If that was true, I would have found him by now."

"You can," said Hannibal softly. "I can tell."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a few lingering moments before catching himself. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink. Wine? Martini?"

"Beer. I like the more bitter, hoppy side of alcohol."

"Noted," said Hannibal.

She brushed by him to get her coat out of the closet, she swore she felt a certain heat and pressure as their hands touched.


	5. Moonlight

"I run a hospital, not a restaurant."

"We wouldn't be here if we had a lot of options, Dr. Chilton." Jack Crawford appeared resigned in this bargain. He wasn't happy when he first heard about the deal Alana made, but recognized the self sacrifice in sitting with this man again for meals.

Frederick Chilton glared at Jack. "Fine, but he is my patient and I get a say in certain parts if this deal." He looked intently at Alana. "I will be listening."

"This isn't what I had in mind when I picked one of the best French Chefs in Baltimore," said Hannibal as he picked at his vegetarian meal.

"You are not my patient, Hannibal. I don't have the authority to make your menu."

Alana tried her best to keep a straight face as she ate her lamb chop. Chilton was a snake, but he wasn't without his moments of brilliance. She knew he didn't direct what the chef would make for her benefit, but it felt like a moment of justice regardless.

She realized Hannibal was watching her eat.

"Stop it."

"It's hard to not look at what I want," he said with a smirk.

"If we make any headway with the Tooth Fairy I just might give you the other lamb chop."

"But that's not all I want."

Alana shifted slightly.

"He kills according to the cycles of the moon," said Hannibal. "Why is that?"

"Astrology fanatic? Many different cultures see the moon as representative of different things," said Alana.

"Have you seen blood under the moonlight, Alana?"

"Only my own."

Hannibal got up from his table and sat on the floor, close to the glass. "And what did you see?"

"Black. All black."

"Of course you did. You've only seen it once, but I can tell you that it is always that way. The darkness can mask everything. But the moon gives things an otherworldly glow. Skin can be quite white amongst the black. I'm sure his is too. If one were nude, one would want privacy for such a viewing."

"The yards. The far flung houses."

He smiled warmly at her. "Very good," he said softly.

"Our time is up, Dr. Bloom. Best be on your way. And keep the lamb. Frederick may not let you come back if you send it through."

"Doctor's orders?"

He chuckled slightly.

"He's only my doctor on paper. I'd call this his version of irony."

Alana left the hospital and made a beeline for her car. Freddie Lounds somehow got wind of her being there.

"Visiting an old flame, Dr. Bloom?"

Alana didn't answer. There was no point. "Hannibal the Cannibal's lover visits him for dinner" or something like that was going to be the headline with or without a quote.


	6. Complex

Five years earlier

"I wouldn't ask if I had any other options," said Hannibal.

"I understand." Alana looked down at her feet as she thought of what to tell Jack and Miriam. They were so excited to try out this new theory and analyze the Ripper's victims' and associates to see if there was any common people. Yet when another Professor unexpectedly went on leave, Hannibal tapped her to analyze Ph.d candidates.

"They know this is your main job, Alana. And from the sound of it you've helped immeasurably. They will understand if you have to be here."

"I know they will," sighed Alana. "It was just my first opportunity to do this type of thing for the FBI. I've done it for local police, but not the Behavioral Sciences unit at Quantico."

"I'm sure the Ripper will wait for you," said Hannibal. "These candidates, on the other hand, are restless. We have a deadline." He handed her two bankers boxes. "You take two, I'll take two. The game is to whittle it down to five, interview the five, and then accept two."

"I remember this process."

"You are lucky to be on the other side now, Dr. Bloom."

It took three days to go through the boxes and find five suitable candidates. Three days of being in the office with Hannibal or occasionally by herself when he took patients. Not one single word from Miriam or Jack all that time. She just found out that Hannibal was finally able to stay the remaining two full days when they interviewed the candidates when she got the call from Jack.

"Miriam is missing," he said.

"How long?"

"Two days. I heard nothing until I received a voicemail from her begging for help and saying that she did not want to do."

She heard Jacks's voice crack over the phone. "Jack, this wasn't your fault."

"I was responsible for her. She's a trainee. Not an agent. I lost her under my watch," he choked out.

"I don't know what to say, Jack."

"There is nothing to say. I wish there was something to say. The only thing I'll say is that you brought me closer to him. Your profile will save lives."

"Thank you."

"I'll be in touch with you, Alana. I need someone like you on this."

Alana worked for hours on the boxes. Miriam in her mind. Then the Ripper. Then all the things he could be doing to... No. Do not go there. "Be here now, Alana" she told herself.

Hours turned into days. The night before the interviews she was spent.

"At this point, I don't even like these people," said Alana. "They are keeping me from home and my bed."

"It's time to rest, Alana. Go home. Sleep," said Hannibal, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm too tired to drive and besides, it's too late. It will be time to come back as soon as I get home. I'm just going to sleep here."

"Your office?"

"Yes. I've done it before. The floor is fine."

"I have a couch in my office," said Hannibal. "If you insist on staying, at least stay there."

"Thank you." He lead her down the hall. His office was bigger than her's, but not ostentatiously big. The couch was a classic, modern Mies Van der Rohe style. Hannibal pulled out a flask for his desk and two glasses.

"Aren't you going home?"

"I'll take the floor," he said handing her a glass with smooth, brown liquid in it. She smelled it. Scotch, she deduced.

"I don't want you to waste good alcohol on someone who loves beer. And I don't want to make you sleep..."

"Have you tried 80 year old scotch before, Alana?" Hannibal said cutting her off.

"No."

"Then even if you hate it, it's not a waste. It's an experience."

She raised the glass to her lips.

"Sip," he said. "Too much all at once ruins the taste."

The liquid warmed in her mouth. "I think I've found my alternative to beer. Too bad it is an expensive alternative."

"That's high praise from an aficionado." Hannibal took a sip. "I made yours neat. Perhaps you would like to try it on the rocks?" He offered her his glass.

She took it and sipped slowly again. "It's a different sensation. Hot and cold." Hannibal smiled. Alana felt her eyes get heavy. "I better not have too much, I need to be awake tomorrow."

"Finish it. It will help you sleep."

"I can say that I prefer neat," she handed back his glass and took hers from the side table. "It's warmer. Consistent."

"That's a good justification. Some prefer it in the rocks because it is more complex."

"It is complex neat too," she said with her eyes closed. "I taste more than just the temperature," she said sleepily as she drank more.

"Tell me what you taste," he said softly.

Alana finished her glass.

"Oak...smoke," she drifted further into sleep. "Warmth...love," she said succumbing to sleep.

Hannibal draped a blanket over her and tossled her hair lightly. The drug worked, swas out cold. He took her glass and traced his tongue along the lip of the glass where her mouth had been. Ginger. And a hint of sea salt. "Complex," he thought to himself. Alana Bloom tastes complex. He left his offices and quietly closed the door. He had two hours to get home and administer more drugs to Ms. Lass and then get back to the office.


	7. Ginger and Sea Salt

Dinner 2

In Hannibal's memory place, they were simply at his dinner table. The conversation and tone didn't reflect those times, but appearances did.

They were talking about the Tooth Fairy as she sipped his wine using his crystal. They spoke of the evidence while eating his food off of his plates. From there he undressed her as he once did. She just laid there. Talking about the Tooth Fairy as he kissed and tasted her. She didn't gasp as she once did. She didn't reach for his body as she once did. It was no use. He came back to his cell.

Alana sat in front of him through the glass with her fork half way in the air.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Facial deformity. I said how the mirrors may indicate some sort of facial deformity or other type of disfigurement...even "correctable" disfigurement."

"It's possible," said Hannibak picking at his peas. "Could also indicate years of systematic abuse leading to such self hatred...is there dessert?"

Alana sighed. "Yes. Ginger custard pie with sea salt. The chef noted that this was a peculiar choice."

Hannibal smiled and looked at her as he took a bite. Close. It was very close to her taste. He savored the sharp spice and bitter salt on his tongue. It brought him back to the when they first kissed by his harpsichord. She had been so willing and he so willing to have her. He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

"Am I not in on the joke or am I the joke, Hannibal?" She asked impatiently.

"You aren't the joke or a joke at all," said Hannibal.

"Tell that to Freddie Lounds and her readers," she said, her eyes examining her plate.

"They underestimate you."

"Then tell it to the FBI and the psychology/psychiatry community. I'm sure they would be all ears for that from you," she spat.

She rose from her small, desk sized table and put her phone to the glass. The headline was splashy, as usual: "cannibal's mistress dines with him in prison."

"You were never my mistress," he said.

"'Lover,' 'mistress,'...what's the difference?"

"You were never a kept woman as mistresses are. Even if you were, I could never totally keep you. I could never possess you totally."

"Not for a lack of trying, Hannibal."

"I came close while you were my student. Your mind was so open then. But even then I couldn't have you. You never did give up control though. You never bent. Even when I had you physically...you never felt mine."

"I think we are done for the day," said Alana quietly.

"Dessert was fantastic. I'll order it again next time," Hannibal replied.


	8. Normalcy

Three years earlier

As he sat with a Alana at the harpsichord, for the first time in a while Hannibal was happy that Will was still tucked away at the asylum. For now. Ms. Lass laid in wake deep in the woods. Will's salvation.

But for now he indulged in the normalcy Alana brought as she softly kissed him. Normalcy. Friends and colleagues...of course becoming involved. He enjoyed her agency in that moment and then stipped it away has he took control. Guiding her body as he had her mind for so many years. Indulging in her.

He was thorough with her as with everything. Enjoying her. Appreciating her skin, hair, lips...warm, vibrant, and alive. Soft and strong all at once.

Like the other bodies, she was vulnerable. But her vulnerability was infinite. It was a sensation he forgot how much he enjoyed. Death only let's you take it once. Every other body he encountered allowed him to take that vulnerability once and devour it. Her vulnerability flowed endlessly as he held her, kissed her, and took her. Knowing that he could end it quickly in those moments she moaned for him gave him a high that lasted far beyond any kill. He usually dealt with the fight or flight response when he was in this position of control. This was a power over a life that continued.

He enjoyed the peacefulness as she slept. Her smell still mixed with his own. It was hard to tear away from when he made his trip to fetch Dr. Gideon and welcome when he returned. It lulled him to sleep.

When he woke, she was there. Alive. Blue eyes looking at him, smiling.

"We have many reasons to be doing this. More than just funeral reasons."

He wanted to indulge in this normalcy again. He guided her body and mind now. She was his. Her reality and perception of his was his creation. It was his normalcy. Reason enough.


	9. Savored

Another dinner, another French meal.

"Why all French? Whatever you cooked, it varied in ethnicity."

"It's the mother tongue when it comes to gastronomy," said Hannibal. "I miss it the most. Plus they don't put butter in anything here."

"Does Frederick have you on a vegan diet now?"

Alana detected a hint of anger in his silence. "Don't give him any ideas," he said coldly.

They moved on to dessert. The Ginger and Sea Salt custard again.

Alana watched as he savored every bite. And somehow he always had this look when he saw her as he finished. A look she only saw when they were lying in bed. A combination of calm, release, and languid indulgence. She remembers that first night vividly. He treated her like a rarity. She knew he had lovers in the past, but that night it didn't feel like it. He took his time. Him leading. Her allowing him to lead her, as always. Looking back, she let him have all of her. His influence was everywhere in her life when it came to every patient, meal, and sex. Looking back, the look on his face now was similar to when he made love to her. Savoring every touch, texture, smell...taste.

Alana suddenly felt self conscious in her dress. A little too tight. Neckline a little too low. Lipstick a little too dark. Her appearance a little too much like how he knew her. How she looked now Is how she looked when he fed her and took her to bed. Professional to a third party, but not to him. Not in the same way. With the exception of his prison jump suit and the glass, it felt too much like the past.

"Alana" he sang softly.

"Yes?!"

"Have I lost you?" He asked.

"Yes. Just for a second."

"Tell me where you where."

She put on her armor again.

"No."

"Then we are done."

The case was still unsolved. People will die. "Come on Alana," she said to herself. "He is behind glass."

"Quid pro quo, Dr. Bloom. Where were you?"

"The past."

"Where? With me?"

"That's presumptive. But yes."

"Where were we, Dr. Bloom?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Perfectly fine. Another family dying is of no concern to me in here. You though..."

"I'd rather not talk Iike this. The past is dead and we are no longer alone

He understood. "Indeed we are not."

Alana took another bite of pie.

"Ashes to ashes, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal smiled. "You are wrong about that, however. The past has a funny way of living on, Dr. Bloom. It's not dead. It's very much here with us. It may make talking about this case even easier. Going back there, talking as we used to. Alone. Without the glass. We could do that in the visitor's room."

"I..."

"I'll let you think about it. Of course. And Frederick may have feelings on not being able to eavesdrop."

She looked conflicted.

"You should finish your pie. It's sublime," he said.


End file.
